My Folly? Or your Betrayal?
by Nickiblitz
Summary: Companion to Here Without You, Lucius' POV. Is he evil, or just misunderstood? Read amnd come to your own conclusions!


MY FOLLY? OR YOUR BETRAYAL?

DISCLAIMER – None belong to me, all belong to the wonderful Miss Rowling.

AUTHOR'S NOTE – This is a companion to 'Here Without You', Lucius' POV. A big shout out to my friends Aida and Jas, they are the best pals ever! And you should go and read Aida's fics, they are under the name Calex. Go and read her stuff! She is one hell of a writer… really talented. And my other friend Jas is coming on… sloooowly….. but she'll be here one day, on ffnet, and I'll be soooooo proud of her! Go Jas!! Luv ya! 

And another thing, REVIEW!!!!!!!!! ^-^

I sit here in my study, looking into the merrily dancing fire in the grate as red-gold sparks shower down onto the plush Persian carpet I bought on my trip to Istanbul. The shadows dancing on the walls are familiar, as are the snoozing portraits on the walls. The sounds of soft snores fill my ears as they have for the past 20 years since my father died. Everything is familiar, reassuring. But something is wrong. Different. And I don't know what it is. I move restlessly in my chair, the comfortable one that has molded itself to the contours of my body, and frown as I steeple my fingers under my chin in the position my wife caustically called my 'thinking pose'. She never liked me. And I've never loved her. A marriage of convenience, that's what it was. Suddenly, my eyes widen as I suddenly realize why everything seems different. 

My chair.

I can't feel it.

I can't feel the warmth of the fire.

I feel cold………. and dead.

I jump out of my chair, stride towards the huge, gilt-framed mirror that hangs over the mantelpiece. I peer into the mirror, almost afraid to look. But I do, and……. I see……. me. But not flesh-and-blood me. More of a pearlescent type of me. I'm a ghost. I'm dead. But how can that be? 

I'm dead.

I'm a ghost.

I'm _dead._

But……… how?

I obviously didn't die of an illness.

I was _murdered_.

But…… by who?

I pace the length of my study; acutely aware that my footfalls don't have the same ringing resonance it used to have. Damn! I curse. I'm dead! I can't believe it, one minute I'm alive, next I'm dead and I wasn't even aware of it. Suddenly, I realize something is wrong with me. I look down. And stare at the broken piece of wood that is sticking out of my chest. I pull it out, wincing even though I feel no pain. Twirling it in my fingers, my ghostly blood dripping off the end of it, I come to the realization that it isn't just any piece of broken wood. _It's my wand. _And its like the wand embedded in my chest has released a flood of memories, I remember what happened.

I remember Draco standing with that Weasley slut, remember me snarling at her, remember me killing her. Oh, it was too simple, killing her. Just two words and she was dead, lying at my feet, eyes open in an eternal glassy stare. Oh, too simple, it was. But then Draco just grabbed my wand, snapped it, and stabbed me with it. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I stand over her, her delectable little body lying so still at my feet. I grin in triumph, I finally got rid of her. Then I look up, see you coming at me. Everything goes in slow motion.

You come nearer.

Grab my wand.

Snap it.

Raise your fist, the broken wand in it. I can see the core of my wand, a hair of a unicorn's tail, sticking out of it.

You stab me. The sickening squelch of hard wood piercing flesh, hitting bone. It hurts, unbelievably so.

I reel backwards, I fall. But I don't scream. A Malfoy never shows weakness, I hear my father bark in my head.

I lie here on the carpeted floor, feeling the blood pool on my chest, run in rivulets down the sides of my body to pool, again, in my hair. My long hair. Remember? You used to play with it, used to run your little chubby fingers through it. Now I know it's turning the colour of blood. My blood. As my vision slowly blurs, I see you standing in front of me, cradling the dead bitch in your arms. I take as deep a breath as I can, gather all my strength to spit out, "I never thought I'll live to see the day Draco Malfoy commit murder because of a little Weasley slut." And it's true. Never thought I'll live to see the day. But you were always tempestuous, although you hid it well under that mask of cool disdain; you were always a little bit too _impulsive_. I could feel it in my bones. Did I not bring you up properly? I brought you up in the manner of my father, and his father before him, in the time-honoured Malfoy tradition. I, too, was impulsive, but it was beaten down by my father. Was I too soft on you? Too lenient? I failed, Draco. I failed as a father to bring up a proper Malfoy heir. 

I failed.

I'm paying the price. 

Do you know that I could prevent this? I could be standing over your dying body now, instead of you standing over me. I could have stopped you from killing me. 

But I didn't.

It sounds strange, but maybe I _wanted _to die. Maybe I felt like there was nothing more in life to do, maybe I felt like I deserved to die, after all I had done? I don't know. All I know is that, I could've stopped this. It could've been different. There are many things I regret not doing, or doing, depends on how you look at it. I wish I could be a better father.                  

Raise you the proper Malfoy way. 

But I didn't.

I was too involved in Death-eater activities.

I regret that.

You could've turned out different.

But, as I look at your face loom closer in my hazy vision, I see the hate stamped all over your features, and I think, maybe not. You would've turned out this way no matter how big my efforts.

You spit in my face.

I feel the last of my life's breath slip out of me.

I die.

Goodbye, Draco.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~END FLASHBACK~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I stride the length of the cozy room that doesn't seem quite so cozy now. I feel anger, sadness and resentment build up inside me. 

Anger that I was murdered by my own son.

Sadness that I failed to mold him into the model Malfoy.

Resentment that of all things to kill me over, he killed me because of that slut. 

I shake my head, wondering just how long it has been since my death. Has Narcissa packed up and left the Manor? Has she found a new lover? I have always known that she only loved me for my money. Now that I'm dead, she'll have all of my money. Of course, Draco would get half. I only hope he would get married to a woman of social position and have heirs. Carry on the Malfoy line. Raise little Dracos. I can only hope.

Suddenly, the door creaks open. And Draco walks in. Or should I say glides? He's dead. A ghost, just like me. Pearlescent. And right behind him……… his Weasley. 

Both dead. 

No more Malfoy heirs.

The line is over, finished.

This is my hell.

An eternity of watching strangers inhabit these hallowed walls.

Of watching my son and his….. _Weasley._

This……………..

This is the true hell.

Is this my folly?

Or your betrayal?

Ok…. I'm sorry this story is substandard. Please review! Tell me what you think, and if I should rethink my writing skills. I'm really sorry if this story sucked!! -_-"

~lunatic ladybug~


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